


Cicada Kiss

by marrowbone



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: Everybirdie Lives AU, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, shrine au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:12:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marrowbone/pseuds/marrowbone
Summary: It was much too hot to go outside that day.A short and sweet first kiss drabble with as much loaded into the feeling of the moment as possible.





	Cicada Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this kind of a long time ago as a simple birthday gift for a friend, and I suddenly realized today that my AO3 has absolutely nothing I really like on it and pretty much all the writing I do now is mood setting pieces for roleplay, so I decided to drop some old writing in. Shrine AU, ICPSS, no items, carriers only. Livershipping is king.

It was much too hot to go outside that day. Everyone with sense was either inside or at the pool. And since Nageki and Ryouta didn’t have money for pool fare, they stuck with their best (and only) option and stayed in. Ryouta’s apartment wasn’t the coolest, but it was better than being out in the sun, and the loud, buzzing fan he’d drug out of a closet made the hot stickiness a little more bearable. The two had silently agreed that it was really too much effort to talk, and so they sat on Ryouta’s couch in relative quiet – Nageki nose deep in a book, and unlikely to come back soon, based on his expression, and Ryouta idly playing some sort of anime-style shoot-the-dot game on his cell phone. The heat oppressed all attempts at the cheerful reassurance usually provided by the sounds of everyday life. The game chirped quietly with happy retro-style chip music. Every so often there was the rustle of pages. The fan hummed constantly. Outside, the cicadas, the only party fully enjoying the blistering weather, sounded in full force. In the half beat between levels, Ryouta noticed a kind of bustling stillness in the air. That in itself grew to a kind of reassurance. A lingering presence in the room, making the two feel even more at home than usual.

After a while, and apparently without cause, Nageki shut his book with a soft _tmp_. Ryouta, halfway through a level, glanced up for the instant necessary to ensure nothing urgent was happening, then went back to completing the round. Nageki stared into the spinning blades of the fan on the floor in front of them, his hands clasped over the thick volume he had been growing slowly less focused upon.

Ryouta finished the game, and lowered his cell phone to refocus his attention to Nageki. In the same moment, Nageki looked at him, and Ryouta’s planned inquiry was stopped in its tracks by the look on Nageki’s face. For about thirty seconds, they just stared at each other. Ryouta in directed confusion, the “What’s up?” he hadn’t said still evident on his face, the crease of his brow, and in the slight part of his lips. Nageki with an expression superficially identical to his usual silent intensity, but missing every ounce of its usual nonchalance. He stared at Ryouta as if he was looking into a storm with the expectation he would be driving through it. Ryouta had never seen anything like that expression on Nageki’s face. To be fair, few had, if any. Ryouta suddenly realized that, in keeping with their usual practice, a casual disregard for personal space that Nageki afforded few others, their noses were less than six inches apart. He wasn't sure why this suddenly seemed important.

Just as Ryouta was recovering from his surprise, as he was drawing in a breath to ask his question after all, Nageki closed those six inches. For a short second, their lips were pressed simply together, Ryouta’s smelling and tasting a little like the berry iced tea he’d had earlier, and Nageki’s slightly chapped and somehow cool despite the hot humidity of everything around them. It was short and sudden, and for just a second, Ryouta could feel Nageki’s wild nerves begin to show in the crease in his nose and the static of his hair and the closeness. But Nageki could feel Ryouta’s surprise, too, and pulled back, apologizing. “I don’t know why I did that,” he said, and his eyes were now bouncing along the ground, looking anywhere but into Ryouta’s, the way they had been before.

“Nageki,” Ryouta said, but Nageki shook his head.

“No. I’m sorry, Ryouta. You don’t have to accommodate that. I should have asked, or said something. Or not said anything,” Nageki muttered, his eyes flicking sideways to watch the fan, still humming in the broken stillness. The cicadas, it seemed, had gone silent for the time being, startled by a banging door or a barking dog.

“Nageki,” Ryouta repeated, and then, apparently growing frustrated with the limitations of his own speech, with Nageki’s steadfast aversion of his eyes, and with the apologetic murmuring on account of something Ryouta really didn’t mind, even—even liked, in fact—

Ryouta gave up on reasoning with Nageki and kissed him, instead. He planted his hand on the other side of the book on Nageki’s knees and leaned in with aim that was more luck than caution, bumping their noses together and steeling his feathery gut to ignore it. It was Nageki’s turn to look surprised now, his eyes wide and then waning, the hair on the back of his neck rising as if the temperature had suddenly dropped. After just another second, Ryouta sat back, and the two stared at each other for a very long minute, neither looking away for an instant of that time, in a silence filled by the fan on the floor.

The cicadas started again.


End file.
